


Some Kind of Romance

by tBrilli4ntD4rkness



Series: Some Kind of Romance - Earth C [1]
Category: Homestuck, Original Work, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: DNA doesn't have to make sense in fiction, F/F, Fun with plot, Gen, Homestuck gods have long since gallivanted off, Set on an Earth-C variant, Voltron-Altean time used (neither years nor sweeps), but in the second work of this series that will not be the case, consorts and carapacians not a major part of this integrated society, everyone has quadrants, fifth 'quadrant' for parent-child relationships, hemospectrum abolished, humans have implemented laws against things like gratuitous violence, kind of like Beforus, many shenanigans with lusii and kids, not all pitch relationships are concupiscient and not everyone has all quadrants, pretty much everyone's a hybrid, since trolls never did siblings and it was all an incestuous slurry anyway, some siblings have pale or pitch relationships, tentatively calling this:, there are adults (obviously), troll-human culture collision, trolls and humans can and do crossbreed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23389870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tBrilli4ntD4rkness/pseuds/tBrilli4ntD4rkness
Summary: An almighty crash sounds from within the hive. You see Satnam stiffen before she darts up the stairs, tossing an "Excuse me" back down at you. After a moment's hesitation - she told you to stay, but who takes orders from their kismesis, and besides, this meeting took forever to set up - you follow her.The door has been flung open at the top of the stairs, and Satnam is standing very still in the front entry, largely blocking the view of the block beyond. She must have heard your steps, but responds without turning, and you feel your gut roil both in pitch irritation and trepidation for the scene before you. "It appears today is not going to work after all."---Satnam Osinka is a single-parent lusus since her moirail disappeared. She's had to work increasingly longer hours to support her young family, while studying night school and trying to keep everyone fed and reasonably clean. Her dwindling social life has made the options for grubcare extremely limited, and she's desperate enough she just might consider her almost-kismesis as help.Satnam's life has been a whirlwind of quadrant tensions, awkward misunderstandings, and endless messes - and that isn't changing anytime soon.
Relationships: Araxie Taliks & Celiae Taliks, Araxie Taliks & Haskis Osinka & Draghi Osinka, Delali Lunala & Draghi Osinka, Implied/Referenced Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam, Satnam Osinka & Celiae Taliks, Satnam Osinka & Haskis Osinka, Satnam Osinka/Delali Lunala
Series: Some Kind of Romance - Earth C [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702075
Kudos: 1





	Some Kind of Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satnam is a very overworked lusus, but at least she's better than the actual Homestuck guardians.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that personally most of the time when I see humanstuck, I kind of sigh inwardly because half the fun is the fourfold romance and the horns. This is not humanstuck. This is a reality in which trolls and humans are genetically compatible, and it's pretty much a dice toss as to what features you get from which species. (Except for blood - we'll get to that later.)

At some point in Earth C's distant past, eight gods and three not-quite gods had created an amalgamation of four previously separate worlds, and disappeared without a trace within a couple generations. Their only known descendant, Roksei Maryam, had announced herself from an orphanage a decade later and used her wits, fabled ancestry, and some mild political machinations to ensure a quick rise in society. She became so well known for her reforms, mistakes, and brief stint in charge of the world that a copious amount of signage still advertised with various representations of her symbols centuries later. There were even shadowy outlines of her taken straight from portraits in the history books, such as the one you, Satnam Osinka, are staring at right now.

This particular rendering of her visage inspires dubious confidence at best, though whether that's from the brick wall it's painted on or the scrawled lettering around it is open for interpretation. Certainly the parodizing graffiti nearby advertising some sort of witches' salon - "clever Anabella with her clever head - and Roksei Maryam raising up the dead" - does not help.

You return your attention to the long line of assorted vehicles in front of you, unsure whether musing about downtown's plethora of first generation advertising is any less skull-numbingly boring than watching the traffic crawl forward. You've been waiting for the light to change for so long that you're fairly sure it has at least once already, and some idiot closer to the front was on their palmhusk at the time. It may, in fact, be quicker to walk, given that you've been staring at this same wall of graffiti for at least the last ten dobashes. If you weren't certain your personal transportation unit would be stolen, impounded, or totaled before you could reach the grubshop just down the road, you just might.

The personal transportation unit in question is really more of a liability than anything, but its sentimental value has outweighed its hazard so far. Your moirail, Celiae Taliks, bought it back when your little family could still fit in it at one time - and before Celiae disappeared. You remember rushing up and down the highway, aging the already older unit even faster between your school and respective places of employment. In your mind's eye, the city is a bit smaller, the vehiclepath less crowded, and the wind in your hair nearly makes up for the stressed driving.

Sitting in this line, behind and in front of countless strangers all waiting for an ephemeral artificial intelligence to determine you free to go, you suddenly feel an age and strain your wishful longing can't control. You shake your head to forcibly clear it, and turn your mind to other things. You will _not_ become one of those nagging lusii, always complaining about the good ol' days; you're not even thirty decaphoebs old yet. Maybe those newly developed self-regulating vehicles will start appearing on the streets, not that you could afford one - and outdated units like yours are exactly what's holding the city back from a more efficient redesign. Cantown is already implementing such a system, or so you've heard.

You're blessedly jolted out of your meandering reverie by the sound of whirring up ahead, indication that the AI gods have at last deemed it suitable for you mere mewling mortals to run amock. You hit the lever, lurching forward in time to not be set upon by the vehicle behind you - _Get it together, Satnam!_ \- as the line starts streaming forward.

The light doesn't change its mind as you turn onto a sidepath, narrowly avoiding collision with some numbskull who parked too far into the road, or slightly above it as the case may be. An electric model, like yours and most others, but with flying suspensions. You hope they get sideswiped for their pretensions. You bring your transportation machinery to a halt in the grubstore's vehiclepen, snatching your money and absconding into the market. You have roughly a varga before you need to collect your wrigglers from schoolfeeding, and half of that is travel time. Unfortunately, where you work isn't even that far away.

Snatching a basket, you leave your mind on autopilot as you scurry through the store: check the list, dodge fellow shoppers in the aisle, grab the item, check for due dates if it seems necessary, rinse and repeat. Only the fresh foods give you pause, meats and produce laid out opposite each other and teeming with people. Everyone who's getting out of work in time to beat the crowd, thereby creating their own.

You're heading to pay when you glance down at your list one last time, and realise you missed the aloe leaves - for Draghi's constant supply of scrapes and sunburn - which are, of course, near the back of the store. Distantly you remember walking right past the section as you jog back, slipping into line a few seconds before a large-horned troll with two heaping baskets consisting entirely of meat. Is it even legal to buy that much? Certainly rather rude - even with the large supplies of meat necessary for a genetically half-troll population, it is customary to eat _something_ besides the entire skew of moobeast meat and milky soda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's come to my attention that my brain has a penchant for switching tense mid-paragraph. This is a fairly new development, so if you happen to see something like this, feel free to let me know.


End file.
